The Night of the First Mission
by Andamogirl
Summary: Captain James T. West and Captain Artemus Gordon first meeting during the American Civil War. The beginning.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: pre-series.

 _Artie: "Why, Mr. President, I seem to recall General Lee paying a tribute to your patience when you took Petersburg after a 10-month long siege."_

 _President Grant:_ _"_ _It was that event that exhausted my supply. I've had no patience since then."_

The Night of the Colonel's Ghost

Warning: graphic depiction of violence.

Many thanks to my beta readers Mithras 90 and Old Toad.

 **TEASER**

WWW

Petersburg, Virginia, 1865

The day was over or almost – it was sunset, and General Grant was heading back to his headquarters encampment after a long day on one of the many battlefields around Petersburg.

Riding his horse tirelessly for hours, he had encouraged his officers and men to fight with courage, promising them that the end of the war was near. He galvanized them with his presence on the front, and while doing it, he had been grazed on his shoulder by a rebel's bullet.

Ulysses S. Grant glanced at his young aide de camp riding on his right side, and hid a smile. Captain James T. West was scanning the area anxiously. "Calm down Captain, the place is safe and I'm safe," he said. "There're no Confederates in the area. We control it entirely." He looked over his shoulder at Dr. Henderson, his physician and CMO of the Army of the Potomac, riding behind him, closely followed by a whole company of soldiers also scanning the area. Then he looked again at Jim West and added; "That escort wasn't necessary… I repeat: the area is perfectly safe…"

He stopped his sentence as a confederate soldier suddenly appeared on the way in front of the riders, coming out from a group of trees. He was holding a gun.

Captain West's first reaction was to protect the General riding beside him. He instantly grabbed his revolver and aimed. He fired a split second later at the Gray soldier, square in his chest.

Grant suddenly said, "No! Don't shoot!" but it was already too late. The enemy soldier was hit and he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

The General dismounted in a flash and hurried to the wounded man's side as he was writhing in pain on the muddy ground. "It's going to be alright, son, hold on," he said as he pressed his hands against the other man's chest, trying to stem the blood flow seeping between his fingers. "Hold on Artemus."

Captain Artemus Gordon breathed, "No, no, no… I'm such an idiot… I'm sorry General." Then he closed his eyes and passed out.

Tbc.


	2. Act one

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

Grant glared at his young aide de camp then he called, "Stephen! Stephen come here, I need your help! Artemus is shot!"

Colonel Henderson dismounted in his turn and ran towards the two other men.

He knelt beside Artemus Gordon and checked the Union spy's pulse at the throat. "He's still alive, Sir." He quickly got rid of Artemus's uniform vest and blood-soaked shirt, and ripped open the top of his long underwear. "It's bad, General," he said grimly. He examined the wound and frowned in deep concern. "The bullet narrowly missed his heart and it is lodged in his lung. His chances of survival are slim."

In that briefest second General Grant went incredibly white, any remaining color draining from him. Then he regained control of himself and looked down at Artemus. He noticed with dread that Artie was breathing shallowly through slightly parted lips, and blood was escaping from his mouth with each breath. "Do everything you can to save him, Stephen. I don't want to lose him. Save Artemus", he pleaded. He removed his rain-soaked and mud-spattered government-issue sack coat, and rolling it in a ball slid it under Gordon's head. Then he gestured towards West and ordered, "Come here, Captain!"

Still very surprised to see that the General took interest in a rebel soldier and even knew him by his name and wanted to save him, Jim complied, kneeling next to the General. "Yes Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant placed his hand on the unconscious man's shoulder in an affectionate gesture. "This man here that you _shot_ is my _personal spy_ working undercover, under my direct orders and giving his information only to me - Hence the gray uniform he's wearing. Captain let me present to you Captain Artemus Gordon, _spy_ _extraordinaire_ and a man I consider like my own son."

Feeling very bad, Jim gulped. "I'm really sorry, Sir. My first reaction was to protect you. I didn't know that that gray soldier was Captain Gordon, a Union officer."

He looked down at the supine form of the man and remembered officers talking about a mysterious man coming and going at the General's tent, at night, anytime – a spy - but that was before the siege of Petersburg. Since then he had disappeared, and many believed he had been killed. He shook his head and then continued his reflection: they were wrong; Gordon had infiltrated himself into the Confederate Forces since the beginning of the siege of Petersburg, spying on them and transmitting information to the General - via pigeons probably. It was the easiest and safest way – and those pigeons were actually… under Grant's tent, in a cage. They were trained to navigate from Gordon to Grant and vice versa. He smiled. 'I always thought they were feathered spies – as they kept coming and leaving the General's tent, and I was right.'

Captain West studied Captain Gordon's face, trying to recognize his features beneath his shaggy beard and grime. He did: Captain Gordon was Grant's liaison officer. He had only seen his face once or twice since the General had taken him to be at his side as his aide de camp, and briefly, off and on. 'Of course, he's always on secret missions'.

As if he had read his aide de camp's thoughts, General Grant said, "Artemus usually wears _another face_ than his – a mask – but a very realistic one, and a different one, each time he comes to see me to give the information he picked up – and he has done so since the beginning of the siege of Petersburg - to avoid being recognized by potential rebel spies or other agents -who may have infiltrated our ranks. He only _wears his own face_ in his own words, when his mission is over and he's waiting for another. It usually doesn't take long, a few hours, the time I need to analyze the information and give him another mission. During that time, he's Captain Gordon again, my liaison officer, almost always on the road, carrying my secret messages to other generals on other battlefields. It's Artemus's idea for his cover, so nobody is surprised at his long absences and his brief returns."

Jim nodded in admiration. "It's a very good idea, Sir."

Grant nodded. "Of course it is. Artemus is a professional. He never neglects any detail. His life depends on his precise preparation."

Captain Gordon stirred, opened his eyes and immediately cried out in terrible pain, his face twisted in agony, thrashing. He looked up at Grant, grabbed the General's arm and realizing the gravity of his wound and that he was certainly going to die, he croaked his voice barely audible, "General, Sir… It's been… an honor… and a pleasure…to serve with you…" Then he coughed blood.

Ulysses S. Grant's shook his head and ran his hand tenderly through Artemus's long wavy hair. "Don't die on me. Hold on! I can't win the war without you, son."

Tears rolled down Artemus's hairy cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's my fault… I… I shouldn't have appeared like that… before you, like a Jack in the box. You took me… for an enemy."

Grant suppressed a curse. "It's my fault too, I should have recognized you earlier… but when I did, it was too late. But you don't look like the man I send to Petersburg close on nine months ago. You've lost a lot of weight and you have long hair and a bushy beard – that are yours!"

Gordon's face shadowed. "Yes, mine, and real not false. It was hell on Earth, Sir… no, it was worse. I survived but barely. Taking care of my appearance was not one of my priorities." He grabbed Grant's hand. "I had to know… I had to know if you were still alive, Sir. A sniper fired at you."

General Grant smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine. That bullet just grazed me. It's nothing." He frowned, curious. "How do you know that someone tried to kill me?"

Captain Gordon smiled weakly. "Because I shot the man who tried to kill you, Sir… It was a sniper, hidden in the ruins of a house… But he had time to fire once before he fell… I was so worried about you…"

The General nodded. "And because of you, he missed his target and I'm still alive. You saved my life today Artemus. Thank you."

Captain Artemus Gordon smiled broadly. "I'm glad you're here Sir, because ... because I think this is it... for me. It was a pleasure, General, Sir." He closed his eyes and unconsciousness claimed him.

General Grant shook his head. "You're not going to die." He looked up at Stephen Henderson. "Doctor, do something, please."

Dr. Henderson opened his big black bag and pulled out a syringe and a glass bottle. He filled the syringe with a powerful sedative and said, "I can't do anything here, General, I need to have Captain Gordon transported to the camp." Then he administrated the drug to his patient.

Feeling guilty, Jim raised his hand. "I'd like to help you, Doctor. It's my fault if Captain Gordon is seriously wounded. I want to help you with him, please."

The physician nodded. "Alright."

WWW

 _Later, under the largest tent of the portable hospital,_

 _Operating room_

Once Artemus Gordon was laid on the operating table, Dr. Henderson took his surgical instruments and put them in a basin filled with water. Then he opened a glass bottle containing a yellow liquid and poured a little of it in the large bowl.

Intrigued, Jim, who had never seen any surgeon do that before asked, "What's that potion?"

Henderson smiled. He turned towards James West and said, "It's not a potion, but a disinfectant. Before operating on my patient, I need to prepare my surgical instruments – I have to disinfect them, using a formula that Captain Gordon created."

Jim was very surprised. "He did?"

Henderson nodded. "Yes, he's great chemist, you know. He's also the one who created the sedative drug I use commonly now – instead of laudanum - with no side effects." He gave Jim scissors and said, "Get rid of his clothes." He pointed at a bucket filled with water, a piece of soap and clean cloths sat on a table. "Then you'll clean him thoroughly, around the wound and on the wound, orderlies will do the rest of his body later. It will avoid any risk of infection and disease. And do it quickly, Captain, I need to remove that bullet as soon as possible. He's getting weaker with every minute."

"Yes, Sir." James West hurried to cut off the uniform that was falling apart, got rid of the hole-filled shoes and then cut the filthy long-john in pieces and dropped them on the floor, wrinkling his nose and grimacing in disgust. The stench almost made him gag. His eyes watering, he said, "It looks like he never changed clothes in months! Or took any baths either."

Dr. Henderson nodded while disinfecting his assorted surgical instruments. "He didn't! Like all the confederates in Petersburg, Captain. They lack everything: food – that's why Captain Gordon is considerably thinner – and potable water – and they won't waste it to take baths or wash their clothes, and they lack clothes too. Everything is rationed in Petersburg."

Captain West poured some of the cold water onto Artemus's chest, and started making circles with the soap on his chest, letting the soap bubble on the bloodied skin. "Do you think he was in the trenches, Colonel? Firing at Union soldiers."

Henderson joined the younger man. "He did what he had to do while undercover, Captain, to keep his cover intact, and if he fired at Union soldiers, be sure that he missed each time."

Jim gently scrubbed Artemus's chest, all around the wound and the wound itself. Then he soaked the cloth in the bucket and ran it over the protruding ribs and the wound, still seeping blood. Then he poured the rest of the water over the skin to rinse away the bubbles and blood. "Done," he said.

The surgeon began to wipe his instruments on a clean cloth, and said, "You can leave now, Captain. Thank you. I have my own assistants." Two male orderlies approached, one was holding a tray covered with clean cloth, bandages, needles and thread. "The operation is going to be tricky, but it won't be the first time with Captain Gordon. He's a regular patient of mine."

Captain West nodded. "Yes, Sir.

Dr. Henderson added, "Tell the General it could take a few hours, then I will have Gordon transported into his tent."

WWW

 _Much later in Grant's temporary headquarters_

 _In the General's tent_

It was late at night when Colonel Henderson finally exited the sleeping alcove General Grant had built at the back of his large tent with a few piles of crates and trunks for a modicum of privacy.

Ulysses S. Grant immediately stopped circling nervously around his working table, cluttered with various papers, plans, stubbed-out half cigars, almost empty cups of coffee, and asked the physician, "How is Artemus, Stephen?"

Henderson smiled reassuringly. "He's going to be alright, Sir. Captain Gordon is strong and resilient. He has lost a lot of blood, and he'll be weak as newborn kitten for a week. I sedated him, and he should wake up by tomorrow evening."

Grant let out a long sigh of relief and smiled. "Thank you Stephen." He moved towards the other man and patted his shoulder. "Thank you very much. You're the best surgeon in the whole army!"

Dr. Henderson pulled out something from the pocket of his white coat and reached out, palm opened where a bullet sat. "I thought you could give it back to your aide de camp, General. It's his bullet."

Grant took it and noticed that the physician was looking behind him, and turned to see Captain West standing outside the tent. "Speaking of the devil….Come in, Captain."

Henderson left the tent as the young officer entered it. Jim, standing at attention, saluted and said, "General, Sir, I'd like to ask you a favor. I'd like to stay at Captain Gordon's side when I'm off duty."

General Grant nodded. "Favor granted, Captain. Artemus will need some help during his convalescence; bringing him food and water, for example. Come with me." He took a step forward and stopped. He showed the bullet he was holding to his officer and said, "It's yours. Dr. Henderson pulled it out from Artemus's chest. Keep it as a souvenir of the day you shot Artemus Gordon. Now follow me."

"Yes, Sir."

The two men entered the 'sleeping alcove' shortly after, and both looked down at the supine form of Artemus Gordon lying on a bunk next to Grant's own.

A lone kerosene lamp sitting on an empty powder barrel lit the room.

Gordon was pale with dark circles around his eyes, his features strained by pain and lack of sleep. He was sleeping soundly, breathing slowly and wheezing slightly due to his pierced lung. His bare torso was bandaged and a spot of blood stained the white fabric close to his heart. His left hand hung limply out of the small bed and his legs were covered with a small coverlet from his knees to his waist. He was clean and wearing cavalry officer pants.

Grant took Artemus limp hand, placed it on the sleeper's stomach and said to Jim, "Artemus was a brilliant actor before the war, specialized in disguised roles – he even disguised himself as different women. He's a very intelligent man, a cultured man and a linguist speaking many foreign languages, he's a scientist with degrees in chemistry and mechanical engineering, always inventing wonderful gadgets he uses in his missions… along with his disguises, that he creates himself, like all his costumes. He uses make-up too, to tan his skin or to age it for example. He's the best spy of the Union and a very good officer. He's a remarkable man. He's unique." Looking at Jim he added, frowning and upset, "But he also has some flaws, for example he's _stubborn as a mule_ and careless with his own health... I've had to ground him several times when he looked worn out and on the verge of collapse… and he is incredibly loyal and devoted to his General, ready to sacrifice himself to protect him." He narrowed his eyes. "I think that you share those traits with him."

Jim nodded. "Like Captain Gordon, I place my duty before all, Sir."

Grant sighed. "Not if you end up dead of fatigue. When I notice that my officers need urgent rest, I ground them. I don't want to lose them. Bad officers are legion, good officers are rare." He pulled the blanket up to Artemus's chest, and then moved curls of dark hair off his forehead. "He's not going to wake up before tomorrow evening. Come back to see him then. I'm sure he'll appreciate your company", he said.

Jim saluted. "Yes, Sir."

WWW

 _The next evening_

Sitting on a stool, Captain West was reading a boring report when he heard a moan and immediately looked at the man lying on the bunk next to him.

Captain Artemus Gordon slowly opened his eyes, and found himself stretched out on a bunk in a large tent. He tried to sit up, but was forced back down by the sharp pain in his chest. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.

He let out a long sigh of relief. "Great Scot! I'm alive! I thought I was dead," he said. Then he looked up at Jim and recognizing him he said, "It's you! You _shot_ me!"

Jim nodded. "Yes I did, but you were wearing the wrong uniform, Captain. I shot you because I had to protect the General. I thought you wanted to kill him."

Grimacing in pain, Artemus smiled and touched his bandage and noticed blood on his fingers. "I wouldn't harm a single hair of his head… he's like a surrogate father to me. But you couldn't know that of course, we never met before. You didn't know me. You're forgiven Captain. I should have removed the gray uniform before appearing before you like that, it's my fault if I was shot… not yours. By the way, you probably are a very good marksman, but your aim was not perfect."

His brow furrowed, his pride as a gunslinger hurt. "How so, not perfect?"

Artemus chuckled, but it ended in a bad coughing fit and he let out a cry of pain. "I'm not dead. Don't be upset, Captain," he said in a rasping voice. "It's not a reproach, on the contrary. I'm very glad you missed my heart by a few inches."

The General entered the sleeping alcove holding a chair, followed by Dr. Henderson holding his big black bag, saying, "I'm glad of that too."

Captain West immediately stood up and stood at attention. "Sir!"

Grant nodded. "As you were, Captain." He placed the chair beside the bunk Artemus occupied, sat on it and then asked, "How are you feeling, son?"

The wounded spy smiled reassuringly. But he was pale and sweating profusely. Tiny spasms were shaking his body from time to time. "I'm fine Sir… "

Grant shook his head and growled. "Don't lie to me Artemus, you never did and it does not become you," he said, scolding Artemus like a child.

Captain Gordon's bravado faltered and he straightened to attention on his bed automatically. "I'm sorry Sir. I'm not feeling too well, actually."

Colonel Henderson rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation. "That's an understatement! You're not fine and you're not feeling well, Captain. You were shot and you're bleeding." He moved beside the bunk on which his patient was lying, lifting Gordon's wrist to take his pulse. "His pulse is rapid and a bit erratic," he said. He laid Artie's hand back down and then touched his forehead. "You have developed a fever and you're in pain." He filled a syringe with a colorless liquid. "I need to examine your wound, Captain, and probably stitch it again as there's blood on your bandage. And as I don't want you to feel a thing, I'll give you a sedative – the one you created."

Gordon looked up at Grant and said, "Sir, I have to tell you that some of General Lee's high-ranking officers have planned another assassination attempt against you, and recruited another sniper. But I don't know who, and where or when and with what. I was unfortunately caught spying on them, and I had to flee the confederate headquarters before I could be captured and then hanged."

Grant nodded. "Don't be. You did an excellent job, Artemus." He sighed. "And killing me is not going to help them to win the war."

West shook his head. "No, Sir, but it would disorganize the army for a while and hurt our troops and demoralize them – giving the Confederate Army time to regroup, Sir. You have… to be prudent General."

The General pulled out a cigar and a match from the pocket of his uniform jacket. He struck the match against the chair he was sitting on and lit his cigar. Soon he was enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke. "I'm always prudent – and I will be even more prudent now that I know that I'm a target."

Closing his eyes in exhaustion Artemus said, "As I can't find that sniper in my current state, let me take your place, Sir, as a decoy. It wouldn't be… the first time."

Grant shook his head. "I know, but not this time. You would bleed all over my uniform, Artemus. I don't want you to leave that bunk for two weeks." He raised a stern finger as he saw the other man opening his mouth to protest and commanded, "That's an order, Captain."

Gordon managed to half open his eyes. "Yes, Sir." He looked up at the other Captain standing in the room, noticing his concern. "I don't know your name, sir…" he said.

Captain West reached out. "My name is West, James T. West."

Smiling, Artemus shook Jim's hand weakly. "My name is Artemus Gordon, but you probably know that already. How do you do James? It's a pleasure to meet you." He yawned as the sedative began to act. "I'm curious, what's… the T stands for?"

Jim chuckled. "The T is for Trouble."

Artie gave a last weak smile. "Then… we are made for… for each other Captain West, I'm a trouble magnet myself... ask the Gen…the Gen… eral", he slurred. His whole body felt numb. His eyelids flickered, drooped and then he was asleep. His head lolled to the side.

Tbc.


	3. Act two

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _The next morning_

Holding a cup of coffee, sitting in his favorite armchair, General Grant finished reading reports from the latest battles, satisfied, and glanced at the two captains sleeping soundly back to back on the same narrow bunk and sharing a blanket.

He raised his eyes towards Dr. Henderson as the CMO joined him. "Hello Stephen." He smiled and pointed at the two sleeping men and said, "I think I have found the perfect companion for Artemus."

Dr. Henderson nodded. "Yes, Sir. But Captain Gordon _refuses_ to work with anyone. It's understandable after his former partner betrayed him and had him almost killed."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "It was the first time Artemus ended up in your hands, if I remember correctly. He was a mess, barely alive." He took another sip of coffee and said, "I know that. I'd like to see them working together – because I'm sure they are made to be together. I can feel it. Maybe later, after the war is over – I hope soon then. Do you know that President Lincoln wants to create a unique and full-scale federal law enforcement agency called the "Secret Service Division" under the Department of the Treasury."

Henderson shook his head. "No, Sir."

Grant took another swallow of the bitter and burning beverage. "I could see them working well for that Secret Service Division after the war. The Secret Service Division will assume the prevention and investigation of counterfeiting of U.S. currency and U.S. treasury securities, and the protection of the President and the Vice President. But the agents working in that agency will investigate all crime under federal jurisdiction too, from murder to bank robbery to illegal gambling. The President wants to nominate William Patrick Wood as Director of the Secret Services. It's a good choice. Wood is a veteran of the Mexican-American war and the Director of the Old Capitol Prison. The legislation is almost ready."

Dr. Henderson shook his head. "I didn't know, Sir. That's a good idea."

Grant smiled. "I think that West and Artemus will be like fish in water in that agency."

The physician smiled. "That's a very good idea, Mr. President, but it's not certain that Artemus will want to work for the Secret Services. He would want to be an actor again – after all the horrible things that happened to him. He suffered more than anyone I know. Any other man would have lost his mind or taken his own life a long time ago."

General Grant gulped the rest of his coffee. "I know. He's someone exceptional." He grinned as he watched James West roll over on his stomach – and fall out of bed.

Dr. Henderson continued, "As for Captain West, he probably wants to pursue a career in the Cavalry, Sir, and to stay your aide de camp."

Shortly after Artemus stretched like an oversized cat and claimed the bunk for himself - and the blanket. He moaned in pain, opened his eyes for a couple of seconds before falling asleep again.

The cavalry Captain moved on his knees and looked around him, both confused and disoriented. "What's the hell…?" he said. He glanced at Artemus still sleeping and realized that he had fallen off the bunk he had shared with the other man.

He had been too tired last night to regain his tent, so he had invaded Gordon's bunk as he was lying on his side, leaving enough room for himself, he remembered.

He pulled himself into an upright position and gasped, noticing Grant and Henderson both looking at him, smiling, both amused. His face neutral, he saluted. "Good morning, General, good morning Doctor."

General Grant smiled. "Good morning Captain. Now that you're awake, go back to your tent, prepare yourself and gulp down a cup of coffee. I want you to be here in ten minutes, we have much to do. General Lee and the rest of his army won't escape me. I want to put an end to this war, once and for all."

The aide de camp nodded. "Yes, Sir." Then he left the tent at top speed.

The CMO sat on the edge of the bunk on which Artemus was now sprawled and touching the other man's throat, took his pulse. Then he felt his forehead. The bandage was blood-free, he noticed with satisfaction. So the new stitches held. "Pulse is strong and steady, the fever's gone, he's going to be alright. That man is a force of nature."

The President smiled. "I should stop worrying about him, but I can't. That man is indestructible – and so is Captain West. I'm right; they were made to be together."

WWW

 _Inside Grant's tent_

 _Much later, the same day_

General Grant had just finished his meeting with his senior officers when he noticed Artemus coming his way, a blanket on his shoulders, dressed in uniform pants, but barefoot, pressing his hand on his bare and bandaged chest. He was hobbling, wincing with every step.

He frowned, both upset and worried. "What's the hell are you doing out of your bunk Captain? I gave you a direct order: I don't want you to leave that bunk for two weeks."

Gordon froze on the spot, nodded and smiled sheepishly. "I know Sir, but I had a natural and urgent need that I had to take care of. It couldn't wait. I'm going back to my bunk. Good night, Sir."

The General raised his hand and pointed at a nearby chair. "Sit down Artemus! I'd like to discuss something with you."

Captain Gordon swayed, grabbing on to the table to keep himself upright.

Before Grant had time to react, Jim West who had stayed in the tent – waiting for orders - jumped to Artemus's side and put a hand under the other man's elbow. "Easy, Captain Gordon!" He supported him until he was securely seated, then went back to his own chair.

Gordon smiled. "Thank you, Captain West."

General Grant turned towards West standing at the end of the table, now gathering military reports. "It does concern you too, Captain. Take a place beside Artemus."

The two men complied, both curious.

Grant took his place in his armchair and continued, "President Lincoln wants to create a federal law enforcement agency called the "Secret Service Division" under the Department of the Treasury. This Secret Service Division will assume the prevention and investigation of the counterfeiting of U.S. currency and U.S. treasury securities, and the essential of the job will be the _protection of the President_ and the Vice President. But the agents working in that agency will investigate all crime under federal jurisdiction too, from murder to bank robbery to illegal gambling. I think when the war is over, that the two of you will be good secret service agents, no – the best! And I think you should be partners too, you are made to be together."

Artemus smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sir. But my intention is to go back to the stage after the war. I'm an actor first and foremost."

Jim nodded. "As for me, I want to pursue my career in the Cavalry, Sir. It would be a pleasure and an honor to stay at your side, as your aide de camp, Sir."

Gordon poured three cups of coffee and slid one to Grant across the table. "I'll accept that post once you'll be President, Sir. To be at your side again to protect you. Not before," he said.

West put his hand on Artemus's shoulder with affection. "I'll do the same thing once you're seated in the Oval Office, Sir. To protect you. Not before. I'm following Artie on that."

Artemus gave Jim a surprised look. "Did you just call me _Artie_?"

Smiling Jim nodded. "I just did, yes. You can call me Jim. Don't you like your nickname?"

Artemus frowned. "Artie? That's a bizarre nickname."

Jim chuckled. "Not as bizarre as your name, _Artemus_ … is it the male version of Artemis?" Smiling he reached out. "I usually give nicknames to my friends, Artie."

More than surprised, Artie blinked a couple of times and shook Jim's hand automatically. "Friend? You want to be my friend?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, unless you don't want to be my friend too."

Ill at ease, Gordon closed in on himself. Feeling that the other man was visibly uncomfortable about the 'friend' thing, Jim didn't insist.

Grant stayed neutral. "Gentlemen, I have no intention of becoming the next President of this country – I'm a soldier, not a politician." He chuckled. "Me at the White House? No way."

Artie tried to stand and Jim grabbed his arm, hauling the other man upright and holding on until he was sure he could stay that way. "Alright, let's go back to your bunk."

Artemus pulled back. "I'm okay. There's no need for you to stay at my side anymore, _James_. I don't need another mother-hen overprotecting me," he hissed. He was angry.

He left, swaying on unsteady legs.

Grant moved closer to Captain West and said, "Don't take it personally. He has nothing against you, Captain. He's just hurting – and not because of you. Good night."

Jim nodded. "Good night, Sir."

WWW

 _The next morning_

Satisfied Dr. Henderson put his stethoscope back in his black bag. "Good! Your health is improving. You're going to be alright, Artemus, but it's going to take some time."

Captain Gordon scowled. "I know, but I hate being stuck on that bunk, doctor. I'm usually doing millions of things per day – and now, I'm doing nothing but sleep. _It's exhausting_!"

Stephen Henderson smiled then he nodded. "I understand, but you were seriously injured Artemus and you are recovering. I'm not going to let you do anything strenuous. You need to rest and stay in that bunk as much as possible. You could read books."

Pointing at the books piled beside his bunk Artie said, "The General already thought about it. I love reading books – usually - but I'm not in the mood. I should be helping General Grant win the war… and I'm stuck here! It's bloody frustrating!"

Henderson nodded. "You want to help the General? Then I have something for you, Artemus. I heard that General Grant needs a new assistant because his usual secretary Lieutenant Morrison is a bit overwhelmed. You could help him – I heard that you're very talented in the use of words and that your reports are short, effective and clear. Just the way the General like them. Doing paperwork would keep you busy, help the General and it's not tiring – and you could do it from your bunk. It's perfect!"

Giving Henderson an appalled look, Artie said, "With all due respect Sir, I'm a spy, a soldier, a man of action, not a secretary hidden behind a desk doing tedious paperwork!"

Stephen Henderson nodded. "For the next two weeks you will!" He smiled and added, "And I'll be sure you remain tranquil, with the General with you round the clock. That's an order."

Muttering something under his breath, Artie used his other hand to salute. "Yes Sir." He said, then as he watched the Colonel leave the bunk room he grumbled, "Me, a secretary!"

Bored beyond definition, Captain Gordon grabbed the first book on the top of the pile: the first volume (of 7) of Commentarii de Bello Gallico, usually known in English as The Gallic War. He sighed. These are good books at least!"

WWW

 _In the afternoon_

Holding a small metal box, Captain West entered the bunks room in the middle of the afternoon, finding Artemus surrounded by numerous files. There were files everywhere: on Artemus's lap, on the floor, stacked on boxes of ammunition...

Propped against piled pillows, Captain Gordon was adding notes on a report, in the margin cursing under his breath. "Those reports are a nightmare to read!" he said. "The spelling is just awful, the grammar is appalling, there's no punctuation, and there are ink stains to top it all…" He looked up at Jim. "I need to translate all these reports into good English before giving them to the General! I'm a spy not some kind of _proof reader_!"

Smiling Jim pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat on it. "Hi Artie! How are you feeling today? A bit grouchy perhaps? Did you have your coffee?"

Frowning Artie scowled. "Wouldn't you be _grouchy_ in my place?" He calmed down. "Hiya Jim. What's bringing you to my _office_?"

Placing the box on his lap Jim said, "I heard that the General hired you as his new secretary. Good! It's relaxing and safe."

Furrowing his brow Artemus glared at Jim. "It's not relaxing – at all."

Jim nodded. "You know I have a lot of reports to do myself and I don't have a way with words…"

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Artie said, "I won't read and correct your reports, James. Not on your life! Don't even think about it." Intrigued, he looked at the metal box. "What's this?"

Smiling mysteriously, Jim traced the lid with his finger. "It's a box – with something inside, correction: two things inside, for you."

Surprised, Artemus lifted one eyebrow. "For me? What is it?"

Grinning, Jim opened the box and pulled out a chocolate cookie. "Nurse Barton gave this cookie to me because she likes me – a lot. Her mother sends her packets of homemade cookies each week. She usually keeps them for herself, but as I told you, she likes me very much, so she offered me two of her cookies…there's a second one in the box. They look delicious…and probably are delicious. She told me that she would give me a cookie per day, starting tomorrow…"

Gordon narrowed his eyes in suspicion again. "Let me guess, you will give me a cookie per day if I do your _homework_."

Reaching out, Jim nodded. "How did you guess? Yes, I will, until you feel better and leave that bunk and stop being the General's new secretary. Two weeks, fourteen cookies. Think of it, fourteen chocolate cookies, crunchy outside, and soft inside…"

Eying the cookie covetously, Artemus couldn't help but lick his lips. "Alright, but I want a cigar in addition, a good one!"

Captain West smiled in triumph. "Okay, deal."

Holding the cookie Artemus said, "Deal." Then he asked, "Who told you that I couldn't resist cookies? I want names!"

WWW

 _Two weeks later_

It was the middle of the night when Artemus was awakened by an odd sound, which he couldn't identify. He pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing when his chest twinged slightly and looked around him. The General's tent was weakly lit by a lone kerosene lamp sat on the table, and the 'bunk room' was almost plunged in darkness.

He glanced to his right and smiled as he detected the shape of Grant lying on his side, still fully dressed and snoring, then he stood up.

He heard the noise again – coming from the rear part of the tent, where the General stored his saddle and gun. He smiled, thinking that it was here too that he, Artemus Gordon, the man of a thousand faces, kept trunks filled with anything necessary to discreetly disguise himself, clothes, wigs, make up and various accessories. The place was perfect!

He headed there silently – thinking about a rat eating Grant's saddle. "Artemus Gordon, spy extraordinaire and occasionally rat slayer' he thought with a large smile. But his smile vanished as he saw a man emerging from the shadows. He was built like a mountain, dressed in black from head to toe and holding a long sharp knife.

In a split second he noticed that the intruder – probably an assassin – had used his knife to cut the thick material of the tent to enter it. That was the odd noise he had heard shortly before.

Raising his knife the man in black attacked. Artie immediately raised his arm to block the blade descending on him, and gathering his strength punched the assassin in his hooded-face with his free hand. But it had no effect. It was like hitting a rock, he thought.

The assassin plunged the knife somewhere in the groin area. Artemus immediately let out a yell. He fell back, blood spurting from the wound.

The man in black moved towards Grant who had just woken up and was now sitting on his bunk, both disoriented and confused. He grabbed the General's neck with his large hand, lifted the knife and plunged it towards Grant's heart…

Suddenly a loud BANG resounded through the tent.

The assassin was hit in the shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards, growling in anger. He recovered quickly, though, so Artemus fired again and the man in black collapsed to the ground and stayed motionless, a bullet hole in his head.

Balanced on one knee, teeth clenched, doing everything he could to resist the pain, holding Grant's smoking gun, Gordon closed his eyes and finally let his body go limp.

Ulysses S. Grant was at Gordon's side in a couple of seconds. Then the tent was crowded with soldiers and officers on night guard duty. "Call Dr. Henderson, quickly!" he commanded. Then he noticed with dread the amount of blood soaking the other man's pants. With one hand he cupped Artemus' s cheek. "Hold on Artemus, hold on, Stephen is on his way."

Grimacing, Artie nodded, his eyes filled with tears. The pain was almost unbearable. "You alright, Sir?" he asked as everything was getting hazy.

Grant nodded and placed a soothing hand on the other man's forehead. "Yes, I'm alright, you saved my life, again." He saw Jim West elbowing his way through the people gathered there and said, "Captain West! Come here."

Complying, Jim knelt beside Artie and took his hand in his. Smiling he said, "Lying down on the job again Artie? I'm shocked. Everything's going to be alright. It's just a small puncture wound."

Everything was blurry now and Artemus breathed, "You're not… funny," then his eyes rolled into the back of head and he passed out.

Tbc.


	4. Act three

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _The next morning in Grant's tent_

Hearing a moan coming from Artemus alerted Jim to the fact that the other man was coming round. He leaned closer, hand pressing Artie's shoulder, and let out a relieved breath when the gentle chocolate eyes blinked up at him.

He smiled broadly. "Thank God, I was beginning to get worried."

Still blinking, Artie remembered what had happened last night in a flash then said, "Didn't mean to." He licked his parched lips and looked around him. He was lying on his bunk again. He slid his hand to his stab wound and felt the bandage beneath his fingers before grimacing. "I bet it's not that serious, otherwise you wouldn't be smiling. But, oh boy, it hurts."

Dr. Henderson suddenly joined the two Captains. "Good morning," he said, before taking his stethoscope out of his big black bag. "How are you feeling Artemus?"

Artie smiled. "I'm surprised to be still breathing, Sir."

Colonel Henderson nodded. "Yes, you are, and you were lucky. You were stabbed in the pelvis; specifically the blade hit the left iliac bone. It pierced and lacerated the gluteus minimus muscle. Fortunately for you, neither the principal nerve nor the artery was affected. You should be able to walk again tomorrow. I said walk, not run, nor ride a horse." He touched Artie's forehead. "Mmm… just a mild fever, good." He placed the small disc-shaped resonator on his patient's chest and the two tubes connected to earpieces in his ears and heard the heart sounds, before moving the resonator to other places, listening to the intestines and the blood flow in arteries and veins. Satisfied, Henderson hung the stethoscope around his neck and said, "Everything is normal. The wound is not serious, but you lost a lot of blood Artemus, so you need to eat and drink – a lot, to rebuild the blood you lost and regain your strength."

Artemus nodded and said, "Food and water are all right here. It is nothing like what I had to eat and drink in Petersburg. It's a miracle I wasn't poisoned after all the abominable things I had to eat in Petersburg… and drink stagnant water."

General Ulysses S. Grant entered the 'bunk room' smiling broadly. He was holding an opened bottle of bourbon and a glass. "Ah, Artemus! I'm glad to see you awake." Looking at Dr. Henderson he asked, "Is he going to be alright?"

Henderson nodded. "He could _walk_ again tomorrow. He's going to be fine, General. Now excuse me, I have other patients waiting for me."

Grant nodded. "Of course," he said.

Once the CMO was gone, the General sat on the chair next to the bunk, poured bourbon into a glass and handed it to Artemus. "I'd like to thank you, Artemus. Without your intervention last night, I'll be dead and stiff by now. You saved my life again."

Artie prudently moved into a sitting position, wincing, before reaching over and drinking the whole glass. Then he set the glass aside, on the box that served as a bedside table and took a deep breath. "I was thirsty… That assassin was the one I told you about, Sir. He's dead now. But that doesn't mean the Confederates will stop hiring assassins to kill you."

Grant refilled his glass again. "Thank you, Sir." He gulped the liquor and his cheeks flushed as gentle warmth spread in his whole body. "You should double the guard around your tent, General, two precautions are better than one."

Grant pressed Artemus's shoulder with affection and said, "I will. You saved my life twice in two weeks, Artemus, risking you own life to do so, devoted to protect me at any cost – even your own life. It's called bravery. I add too, that you did a remarkable job gathering vital information for months, using your trained pigeons to transmit them to me, information that allowed the Union Army to win decisive battles in this campaign. You took risks of being caught and hanged as a spy for your country, and you saved the lives of many people, Captain. For those reasons, I decided first to promote you to the rank of Major, and then I proposed to President Lincoln that you get rewarded with the Medal of Honor – your second one."

Gordon blushed with both pride and pleasure. "Thank you, General, Sir."

Grant smiled, patted Artemus's shoulder and said. "The President accepted. As he can't be here to give the medal to you personally, I'm going to have the pleasure and the privilege to give it to you in his name. There will be a ceremony in a week, by which time I will have received the medal and an official letter from the President."

Jim was stunned. "Two Medals of Honor?"

The General nodded. "Yes, Captain. Artemus was rewarded with the first one after he saved my life and the lives of my superior officers after the battle of Shiloh." He patted Artemus shoulder with affection. "You deserve it, son. Congratulations."

Artemus Gordon beamed. "Thank you General." He watched Grant fill his glass again with bourbon, and then he gave it to Jim sitting beside him on the edge of the bunk. "It's for you, James."

Jim smiled. "Thank you Artie, but no, thank you. The doctor said you need to drink a lot, and he probably meant water, but good bourbon generously provided by General Grant can't be refused." He gave the glass back to his new friend and added, "Drink it. You need that – and congratulations for your promotion and for your second Medal of Honor, Artie."

Gordon grinned. "Thank you."

Rolling his glass in his hands Grant said, "Stephen Henderson is going to yell at me because you're hurt again, but I need your help, Artemus. No one else can do it. I want you to go back to Petersburg. I need to know what General Lee and his senior officers have in mind. It's vital."

Major Gordon nodded. "Yes Sir. I'll heading back to Petersburg tonight. Don't worry about my injury, it's superficial."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded and said, "But you won't go there alone this time, because you're hurt and recently recovered from a gunshot wound. You'll need help." He glanced at Jim West. "Captain West will accompany you; he'll be your _partner_." Seeing Artemus frown and open his mouth to say "no, out of the question", he hurriedly added, "That's an order."

Lowering his shoulders in defeat Artie nodded. "Yes Sir. But James here won't mingle well with the Grays. If I can take a southern accent easily, he can't."

His eyes twinkling with malice Jim said, "I have an idea to fix that. I'll impersonate a mute. No southern accent needed."

Grant nodded. "That's a good idea! Major, you have time to build a credible scenario. No doubt it will very creative. You'll leave the encampment in the middle of the night, discreetly."

The newly-promoted Major gulped the bourbon in his glass. "Yes General, Sir. I already have an idea… and a good one." He touched his long hair, down to his shoulders, then his bushy beard and said, "I'm going to need to cut my hair and to shave, my face, my arms, my legs – and that's all." He suddenly felt very hot and his vision blurred. His head seemed to weight tons. Oooh… Oh boy! I feel like someone has stuffed the ol' noggin full of tapioca… I think I'm going to…" He didn't finish his sentence as his eyes closed and he slumped backwards on his bunk, unconscious.

General Grant smiled and caught the glass before Artemus dropped it, his hand now limp and hanging off the bunk. "He usually holds his liquor very well," he said. "He often out-drinks his enemies to pick up information from them, but he lost a lot of blood last night, so his resistance is weakened." He poured another bumper of bourbon into the glass and offered it to his aide de camp.

Taking the glass, James West said, "Thank you, General, Sir". He glanced at Artie sleeping off his liquor and asked, "Sir; can I ask you a question?"

The General nodded. "Shoot!"

Looking at Artemus, he asked, "Do you know why he doesn't want me to be his friend? He didn't say anything, but he was clearly very uncomfortable with that idea."

Grant sighed sadly. "He _had_ friends – in the Army but they all died, and he saw them die – all of them. And one of them, his former partner, betrayed him – with dire consequences for Artemus. He was tortured and almost died. Dr. Henderson saved his life in-extremis." He paused as memories surfaced in his mind, then blinking back to the present, he continued, "After he lost a good friend of his during the battle of Cold Harbor, namely Lieutenant Harry Garvey, he decided not to make friends anymore, at least in the Army, to avoid the pain and grief of losing anyone else. That's why he was hurting last evening. He remembered all that. That's why he doesn't want you to become his friend."

Jim nodded. "I understand, Sir."

The General shook his head and said, "But I'm sure that the two of you are destined to be best friends and even be like brothers… I can't explain it, but I'm sure of it. But it could take some time and it's not going to be easy, Captain, it would be like _taming a wild horse_ , but you will end together, I predict it." The General smiled and continued, "If he lost his officer-friends tragically, he has many friends in both theatre and musical circles, and amongst them a lot of young lady-friends. And as a highly regarded actor before the war, he met numerous Senators and Governors, and thus he has friends too in Washington political circles." He stood and then he added, "Protect him, James, but let him do whatever he'll have planned. Your lives depend on it. He's a professional, you're not."

Jim nodded. "Yes Sir."

WWW

 _On the afternoon_

 _Inside General Grant's tent_

Sitting in his favorite armchair, General Grant lit his nth cigar of the day. He took a long puff and watched through smoke swirls, fascinated, Artemus Gordon (his hair short and freshly shaved his arms and legs hairless) transforming himself into a very attractive red-haired woman.

The spy had started his cross-dressing first with the clothes: lingerie pants on top of his own short and skin-tight underwear, a corset with a false bosom, a crinoline – where he had strapped a revolver, a Derringer and a knife – a petticoat, a green dress with white stripes and lace, black varnished boots and a black shawl. Then Artemus had used some make-up, covering his face with a white powder to hide his tan and had painted his lips in dark rose. After that he had added the essential accessories to his costume: a red-haired wig with strict bun, matching pearl necklace and earrings, and a large hat. He had finally hidden his very male Adam's apple behind a black scarf.

Shaking his head in amazement, Ulysses S. Grant took his cigar out of his mouth, smiled and said, "It's absolutely remarkable. Artemus, you're amazing!"

Artemus chuckled. "Thank you, Sir. Jim and I, we're going to enter Petersburg with all the refugees coming in each day, fleeing the devastations of the war."

The General nodded. "Dressed like that, the enemy won't suspect you." He glanced at Jim, sitting on a chair nearby, who Artemus had beautifully changed into a young brunette woman wearing a red dress (with a small arsenal strapped to his crinoline too), and he couldn't help but grin as his aide de camp looked grim. "If it can comfort you, Captain, you look _gorgeous_ , and being disguised as a woman is an easy way to enter Petersburg. Who could suspect a lovely southern Lady and her _adorable_ younger sister, seeking refuge in the city as those _damned Yankees_ have destroyed their house – to be Union spies. No one. It's a perfect disguise and a perfect plan."

Gordon nodded. "Thank you, Sir. We'll leave at night. Lieutenant Ferguson and his scouts spotted a dozen of refugees on the road, about ten miles from here."

General Grant stood and said, "I'll give you a carriage we confiscated earlier this afternoon with an unbranded Union Army horse. Well gentlemen, I wish you good luck – and come back, alive and in one piece."

Gordon and West both nodded. "Yes Sir," they said in chorus.

Grant left his tent, closely escorted by two guards and several officers. He needed to review the artillery positions before bombarding Petersburg – again.

Smiling Artemus sat on a chair beside Jim – still looking very uncomfortable. "You're perfect. Being a woman opens doors… and men love to talk to women. And officers love to talk to southern ladies like us. It's just a matter of finesse to make them reveal anything we want – without them noticing, of course. I'll show you. You're a very intelligent man; you'll understand the technique within minutes. The principal thing is _to think and act_ like a woman. I can do that easily. I did many cross-dressing roles as an actor… and carefully observed all the women I met and dated." He then looked him up and down and nodded. "You'll attract many men – officers preferably."

Muttering something under his breath Jim glared at Artie. "I feel completely _ridiculous,_ " he said. "And I'm not going to seduce men, Artie, even to pick up information. I'm a _man_ , not a woman. I'll be at your side to protect you, that's my job, nothing else. You're the actor; you're the spy, not me. Like the General told me, you're the professional, I'm not."

Gordon nodded. "Don't worry; I'm going to handle things from now on." He rubbed his chin pensively. Then raising his voice a few octaves, he said with a feminine voice, "You need a hat, my dear and a scarf to hide your Adam's apple. A red one."

Tbc.


	5. Act four

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

 _Later that night, inside the besieged Petersburg_

 _Hotel Silver Oak_

Smiling, Miss Artemis McGordon (Artemus Gordon) watched the young and shy Captain put her bag on the single bed and said, "It's really very kind of you, Captain Morison. Without your invaluable help my sister and I would have been lost in this city."

The confederate officer grinned, "It was a pleasure, Miss McGordon. I'm sorry but it was the only hotel room left – with only one bed. Refugees are coming in large groups every day." He glanced at his fellow officer who was talking to Samantha McGordon (James West).

Sighing sadly, Artemis said, "She won't tell you anything, Lieutenant. My younger sister was born mute, unfortunately."

Lieutenant Bellamy took Sam's hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry, miss. But you are the most beautiful woman I saw in a long time. You have such beautiful green eyes."

Stunned, Jim found himself blushing. He smiled and mouthed, "Thank you."

Captain Morison kissed Artemis hand too and said, "We're leaving now, you are probably very tired. What about having breakfast together tomorrow morning? In the _petit salon_. I'd love to. I can arrange to find some food. I know General Parker's personal cook."

Artemis McGordon's eyes lit with interest. "General Parker? The General Parker who won the battle of Hammersfield and captured 600 Union soldiers and sent them to Andersonville?"

Morison nodded proudly. "That's the one. I could introduce you to him, if you want. He is giving a small reception, something simple as food is sparse, for his wife's birthday tomorrow evening."

Artemis smiled. "I accept with pleasure, Captain, first to have breakfast with you and then to go with you to the General's reception."

Lieutenant Bellamy, totally smitten and still looking at Samantha, asked, "Will you come too, miss?"

Samantha nodded and mouthed, "Yes, with pleasure."

Enchanted, the two men bowed gallantly then left the hotel room. Immediately after Samantha sat on the bed and looked up at her big sister. "We're lucky."

Smiling Artemus Gordon sat on the bed too and said, "You're right. Parker is one of General Lee's aides, a good friend of his. He probably knows a lot of things and his guests will too. I'm going to pick up very interesting information at that birthday party. But for now, we're going to sleep for a few hours – fully clothed – but crinoline-less, just in case something happen. I don't want to be caught and hanged while half disguised. I'm taking the right side of the bed." He removed his crinoline within minutes, expertly, and then removed Jim's. "There, now we can lie on the bed and sleep."

Staring up at the ceiling the two men stayed lying side by side in the semi-darkness for a long while, hearing the loud explosions of the Union shells in the distance, both lost in their thoughts.

Gordon was building in his mind multiple scenarios to pick up information from the Confederates, and West was thinking about how they'll _come back home_.

Entering Petersburg with a column of refugees was easy, but leaving it won't be that easy: no one wanted to leave the city as people were safe inside, Jim mused. Two women leaving Petersburg would seem very suspect and they could be stopped, and arrested for questioning. Plus, it was very dangerous as shells were now raining all around the besieged city.

Captain West sighed. 'We'll find a solution,' he thought with optimism, concluding his reflection. He turned his head to look at the other man and said, "I'm sorry and I apologize. I was harsh with you after you dressed me like a woman and you didn't deserve that. I felt… very ill at ease, awkward…"

Still staring at the ceiling Artemus nodded. "I reacted like you when I had to first dress like a woman to play a feminine role. It was like I was going to lose my _maleness_ and I was upset… but I finally realized it was just a costume. I was still me. It passed." He smiled. "It's fun now to play the role of a woman and I try to perfect it each time." He turned his head towards Jim's. "I'm sorry too and I apologize too. You offered your friendship and I refused it. It wasn't polite – at all."

Rolling on his side to face Artie, Jim propped himself on one elbow and said, "The General told me why you don't want any friends, without giving me any details, and I understand that." He moved himself to a sitting position and smiled. "But I still want us to be friends."

Moving to a sitting position too, Artemus leaned against the bed head. "I rejected your friendship because I didn't want to have another friend – I didn't want to see him die like the others. I didn't want to have that pain again. I would have rejected your friendship if… I didn't know that you and I are made to be together – call it intuition – and that our friendship will evolve from friends to best friends, and, finally to something stronger, to the bond of brotherhood." He smiled and added, "All my intuitions are correct."

Jim smiled broadly. "I like your last intuition a lot, Artie." He reached out, offering his hand to the other man. "I can't promise you I won't die, Artie, but I'll do my best not to." They shook hands. "I have an intuition myself, and I'm serious here: I'm sure that nothing and no one will separate us – ever – not even death. And that you and I will have many great things to do in the future. So, friends?"

Artie smiled, "Friends."

Both smiling, they were shaking hands again when the door was abruptly smashed and a dozen soldiers invaded the room, their rifles pointed at them.

Standing, Artemis McGordon shook her finger, outraged. "What is happening here? How dare you intrude in this room?"

The soldiers parted, revealing a tall blond man, an officer, a Major. "Well, well, well… Look who's here? You should have changed your pseudonym, Artemus, because I recognized it immediately. You use it from time to time when you impersonate a woman. It has betrayed you." He smiled. "When Captain Morison, who's my aide, told me that he had met a lovely red-haired woman called Artemis McGordon, I knew that my _old friend_ Artemus Gordon was here, in Petersburg. He was right, you look really lovely." He looked then at Jim. "And your partner looks really lovely too. He's a man, right? I'm very surprised to see that you have a new partner. I thought that you worked alone – after what your former partner Barney Finn did to you during the Chattanooga Campaign."

Finally, Artemus blinked out of his stupefaction and said, "Harry Garvey? But… but I thought you were dead! I saw your body at the battle of Cold Harbor."

Harry Garvey shook his head. "You saw a dead body that looked like me, wearing my uniform. It was an easy way to leave the Union Army and have a new life – a promising one. I had no future in the army – in your army at least. I didn't want to stay a Lieutenant all my life and end up in a remote fort somewhere in the western territories after the war. I wasn't a hero like you were, or had important friends like you had, Grant being just the first of them. And I'm not speaking about the various senators and governors who boosted your career."

Hurt and upset, Artemus spat, 'No one has ever boosted my career, _no one_ , and I deserve each of the insignia on my shoulders."

Garvey waved his hand in a dismissive gesture "Whatever! You see I had great hopes… so I offered my services as a source of vital information – vital for the confederate army to win battles, and battles were won – to the Confederation. I rapidly become a Major in the Confederate Secret Services Bureau."

Frowning angrily Artie tightened his fists menacingly and groaned. "You're a traitor!"

Unfazed, Major Garvey chuckled. "To you yes, to my new friends I'm a hero. I'm going to be promoted Lieutenant-Colonel for capturing Grant's personal spy - and near adoptive son – and his partner." He pulled his gun out of its holster. "Remove your clothes. I know that you have hidden guns in all those female layers of silk and brocade!"

The two Union officers complied – save for their _masculine_ underwear. Soon a mini arsenal was lying on the floor amid women's clothes.

Garvey smirked. "I see that you have been injured and it probably hurts, Artemus. I promise you will hurt more soon. I'm thinking about a nice beating – to start with, then I don't know, maybe flogging." He observed Jim attentively then he snapped his fingers twice. "I remember you! You're Captain West, Grant's aide de camp, and the good old Artemus is your new partner. Nice catch! I'm going to be promoted Colonel directly."

Captain West nodded. "Don't take it personally, but I never saw you. I don't know every officer of the Union forces."

Major Garvey nodded. "I'm going to throw you in a cell before your execution. I have to tell the good news to my superiors. They'll be delighted!" He snapped his fingers and Jim and Artemus were manhandled out of their room. "Let's go!"

Once in the corridor, Jim easily managed to get rid of the two men framing him, using well-placed punches, then he grabbed a rifle. He immediately pointed it at Garvey – and froze seeing that Garvey had the mouth of his gun placed against Artie's temple.

The Major smiled. "Nicely done, Captain West, but drop that rifle immediately if you want your partner to stay alive." He cocked the hammer on his gun.

Jim didn't move an inch and said, "We're going to die anyway. But you'll die with us."

Garvey shook his head. "Not all spies are hanged, it depends if they have a certain importance – and you have a great importance, both of you. I think that we could make an arrangement: your freedom against the liberation of Confederate prisoners…"

Artie shook his head. "Don't listen to him! He has no authority in that matter. General Parker will be more than happy to hang us… me, to hang me, not you. Let me here and leave me Jim. You're intelligent and resourceful, I'm sure that you'll find a way to join our side." He smiled. "It was a pleasure, Jim."

Captain West shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't Artie, I can't leave you." He lowered his rifle. "You're my friend and my partner..."

Then the soldiers jumped on him and started pummeling him.

Before Garvey could react, Artemus balled his hands into fists and threw himself in the melee, using his fists to help Jim. But Garvey grabbed his arm shortly after, and hit the other man in the face with the butt of his gun. Artie yelped and tumbled back a few steps, cradling his jaw.

Growling like a pissed-off grizzly, Artie moved towards Garvey, eyes black with rage. "Drop that gun, and fight Garvey!"

The Major just pointed his gun at Artemus. But it didn't stop him.

But one of the guards did: he struck Artie squarely on the chest. The Union spy fell on his back with the force of the hit.

Garvey fired at the ceiling – and everyone froze. "That's enough!' Looking down at Artemus glaring up at him, he said, "Stand up!" He looked at Jim then. "You, come here!"

Glowering at Garvey, Artie complied, massaging his aching ribs. Jim joined him, there was blood all over his face and shirt, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

The Major pointed to the end of the corridor. "Move!"

WWW

 _Later in prison_

Major Garvey grinned cruelly as Artie was suspended from the ceiling at the end of a rope; feet dangling in the air.

Jim was cuffed and chained to a wall.

Growling, Artie struggled, trying to kick the men framing him.

Garvey chuckled. "Feeling comfortable? You should keep that strength of yours to resist the coming beating." He nodded to the two guards standing on each side of Gordon and they started to hit him, hard, using him like a punch bag. "I'm sure that you're going to love the spectacle, Captain West. I'd love to stay too, but I have to see my superiors. I'll be back soon."

He left as Artemus was hit repeatedly in the groin to cause maximum pain.

Gordon tried to free himself of his bonds, straining against his outstretched arms, feeling the ropes cut into his already scraped wrists. He managed to kick the guards – and they didn't like it. They hit his face this time, enjoying every second of it.

Growling, Jim suddenly lunged against the chain again, bloodying his wrists with his struggle. "Stop! Stop! You're going to kill him!"

The two soldiers moved back, chuckled and started to bombard Artie's sides and back with solid punches, eliciting moans from the barely conscious Major.

Once Artemus had passed out, his head slumped, blood dripping from his eyebrows, nose and lips down his chin and on to his bare chest, they stopped – they threw a bucket of water onto him, but Artemus remained passed out.

The guards scowled. It wasn't fun anymore. The prisoner couldn't feel anything anymore, that was too bad, they both thought. They unbound Gordon before exiting the cell to play cards, leaving Artemus in a motionless heap on the dirty ground.

Feeling totally helpless Jim knelt on the ground, almost at arm's reach of the other man. "Hold on Artie, nothing is lost, we're going to go home soon."

WWW

Garvey came back one hour later or so, flanked by the two guards. Moving close to Artemus, he kicked him in his ribs. "Wake up, Grant's boy!"

Artemus abruptly regained consciousness. He groaned as his entire body ached, muscles burning. He glared at his former friend. "Go to hell!"

Garvey smiled. "I'm glad to see that you still have the fighting spirit Artemus!" He suddenly punched Artemus in the face. "I expected no less from you." He punched him again, catching him right across the cheek. "Artemus Gordon and his famous willpower..."

His eyes defiant, strong, Artie spat blood onto the other man's face.

Garvey wiped his face with the back of his hand and snapped his fingers. The two soldiers pulled Artie upright, eliciting a strangled yelp of pain from the man.

He grabbed Artemus' s hair, and pulling his head backward, he said, "My superiors want you dead, gentlemen, dancing at the end of a rope. You are going to be executed behind the Confederates trenches so that the Union soldiers can see the _spectacle_ – and maybe Grant will see your hanging too, with a bit of luck." He snapped his fingers again. "Release West!" One of the guard complied. "It's too bad I haven't time to use a whip on you, Artemus." He chuckled. "But I'll soon have the pleasure to see you dancing at the end of a rope."

WWW

 _Later in the street_

Hands on their heads, the two Union officers slowly crossed the street, framed by four Confederate armed soldiers and preceded by Major Garvey.

They suddenly stopped as they could hear the bombardment increase in volume – crushing the lines of defense outside the city and… inside.

Houses hit by mortar shells suddenly exploded all around them, clouds of dust rising amid the rubble and fire.

Jim and Artie mentally thanked the Union artillery for using enormous mortars, and seized the opportunity to flee as the soldiers ran, scattering, to shelter themselves.

Garvey stayed in the middle of the street, cursing his men for their cowardice. He calmly pointed his gun at Artie and fired.

Hit in the back, Artemus collapsed to his knees before falling flat on the ground, unconscious. Jim immediately stopped running; he turned in a flash and moved towards his fallen friend. Crouching beside Artemus, he noticed with relief that he was still breathing. The bullet had left a hole on its way through, and the wound was bleeding profusely.

He gripped his partner's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Artie?"

No reaction. Artemus remained motionless.

Shells fell all around the three men, exploding in a deafening din, sending shrapnel everywhere, in a sea of flames, transforming the street into a part of Hell.

Unfazed, Garvey moved towards the two Union officers, holding his gun tightly. "I won't let you escape. You are my prisoners. I'm going to…" He never finished his sentence as a piece of shell severed his head and he was engulfed in a ball of fire.

Jim immediately pulled Artemus out of the street and laid him on the porch of the Oak Silver hotel. Then he ran inside to gather their women's clothes.

WWW

 _The next morning, at dawn_

Captain West stopped the carriage in front of Grant's tent and taking his wounded partner in his arms, he rushed inside, passing the stunned guards, surprising the General who was reading reports. "Sir!" he just said, his voice strangled with emotion, before lying Artie on the table. "You can't die Artie. Not now. We have many great things to do together."

General Grant immediately ran outside and ordered one of the soldiers guarding the entrance of his tent, "Go fetch Dr. Henderson, now!" Then he came back inside, moving towards Jim who was now holding Artie's limp hand in his.

Seeing that his aide de camp was on the verge of exhaustion and totally distraught, close to tears, he pulled the other man by the shoulders and maneuvered him to the nearby chair. Then he pulled another chair up close, and sat in it. "He's not going to die," he said." Then he looked at Artemus, dressed in his woman's attire. He looked dead, the green dress now turned black with blood. His face was terribly pale, except for bruised spots. Dark circles stood out beneath his eyes.

Blinking away tears, Jim nodded and regained composure. "I'm sorry Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant smiled. "Artemus and you became best friends right? That's why you are so shaken? And don't be sorry to show you emotions, Captain… Jim. It's human." He removed Artie's red-haired wig and asked, "What happened? I want to hear the whole story from the beginning."

Captain West sighed. "Yes Sir. We easily entered Petersburg with the refugees. A Captain and a Lieutenant noticed us, finding us attractive, and they accompanied us to a hotel. They proposed we accompany them to a small reception. It was General Parker's wife birthday party last night and we accepted. Artie was enthusiastic. He could pick up information there. But it didn't go as we planned, at all. A group of soldiers broke into our room commanded by a man called Harry Garvey – a former Lieutenant of the Union Army, and former friend of Artie's and now a Confederate Major working for the Confederate Secret Services Bureau – that's the man you told me about General."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Grant exclaimed, "Harry Garvey? I thought he was dead!"

Jim nodded in reply. "Yes, and Artie did too. He's a turncoat, Sir. When Garvey heard from the Captain we had met earlier that he had invited a lady called Artemis McGordon to the birthday party, he recognized Artie's pseudonym – he apparently uses it from time to time when he impersonates a woman."

Grant nodded. "Yes he does. He likes it. Go on."

Jim continued, "We were arrested. Garvey put us in a cell and he let his men beat up Artie while he contacted his superiors. I couldn't help Artie; I was shackled to a wall. Finally he came back an hour later with the order to hang us behind the Confederates trenches so that the Union soldiers could see the _spectacle_ like he said – and eventually you, Sir. But when Petersburg was bombarded, Artie and I, we managed to escape, but Garvey shot Artie in the back before he was killed in an explosion. As Artie was injured, I decided to get back here as soon as possible." He looked down at Artemus' s prone form. "Civilians were fleeing the bombarded city, so we mingled with them to escape." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, General. We failed."

General Grant nodded. "Yes, sometimes even the best plans can fail – if something unpredictable happens on the way. That's what happened. But I'm glad you came back in time. I'm going to launch a massive assault on the trenches and fortifications of Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. The Confederate army suffered heavy casualties in the recent battles. Hundreds were killed. Many soldiers are wounded, have been taken prisoner or are in flight as deserters. The city will fall into my hands in a day or two. The end of the war is close, Jim. I know it."

Still looking down at Artie's immobile body Jim nodded distractedly. "Yes Sir."

Dr. Henderson rushed into the tent, holding his big black bag. "I came as soon as I could," he said moving close to his new patient. "What happened?"

Jim sighed. "He was shot in the back, Sir. He comes around from time to time. I came back here as soon as possible."

Stephen Henderson nodded. "And judging by the state of his face, he was badly beaten up too." He rapidly stripped Artemus of his blood soaked clothes, save for his short black underwear, noticed the nasty bruises here too and observed the bullet hole, still bleeding sluggishly. He touched Artie's throat then. "Pulse is weak and erratic and his breathing is shallow", he said. He gently moved the wounded man onto his good side and did a survey of his back. "The bullet hit him in his trapezius muscle and broke the breastbone in pieces and parts of the bone broke through the skin. There's blood there too. There's a huge swelling there. It's very big, but not lethal, fortunately. But it's going to be very painful, I'm afraid. He'll feel sharp pain when any movement is made, with possible nausea, dizziness, and spotty vision due to extreme pain. But he won't die, that's the good news. He was very lucky again."

Grant and West both let out a sigh in relief.

Dr. Henderson went on, "I'm going to operate on him as the breastbone is broken in pieces. I'll use a metallic plate that I'm going to affix along the superior aspect of the bone via several screws. I will remove them after healing. That kind of injury is pretty common – bullets love that area of the body. So I have plates and screws in my bag." He opened his bag and pulled out a syringe and a bottle of sedative. "I'm going to keep him sedated until tomorrow morning. It's not that I don't want to keep him sedated longer but we are almost running out of sedative – and dozens of injured soldiers arrive every two minutes. I have to ration out it. And our chemists have run out of some of the necessary ingredients to prepare new bottles of sedative. I'll be forced to use laudanum instead, with all the risks that entails, including overdose, respiratory depression and constipation for example." He gently laid Artemus on his back and looked at Jim. "You're a bit pale Captain under all your bruises - are you alright?"

Jim nodded. "It's just fatigue Doctor, I'm fine."

Henderson nodded. "Good! I'm sorry to bother you General but I'm going to use your table to operate on. The infirmary is full."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "No problem, Stephen. I'm volunteering to assist you." Then he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Stephen Henderson pulled out an assortment of surgical instruments from his bag and a bottle of disinfectant, placing them on the table.

The doctor poured disinfectant generously over the pieces of bone that broke through the skin and picked up a scalpel.

Seeing Jim even paler than before, Grant ordered. "Go back to your tent and sleep, Captain, you're worn out. Come back here later. Don't worry, he's in good hands."

Jim saluted. "Yes, Sir." And he left, reluctantly.

WWW

 _Grant's tent, the next morning_

Colonel Henderson was sitting on a stool beside Artemus who was lying on his bunk, his back propped against three pillows, when Jim joined the two men, holding a cup of steaming coffee. He noticed that Artie had his right arm in a sling to keep the joint stable and decrease the risk of further damage. He sat on the edge of the bunk, smiled and asked, "How are you feeling Artie?"

Pale, sweating, grimacing in almost unbearable pain Artemus groaned through gritted teeth. "Horrible. Hurts like hell, Jim."

The surgeon nodded. "You're going to be immobilized with the sling for a minimum of six weeks, to allow initial bone and soft tissue healing and to avoid re-fracturing bone. I'll visit you three times per day to change your dressing, and after the first week you'll start physical exercises to reduce atrophy in the elbow and shoulder. When completely healed, I will remove the plate and the screws. Then you will have to rest for a few days more, the time the wound heals."

Dr. Henderson stood up. "I'll come back to see you this afternoon. I want you to stay in that bunk for the next forty-eight hours, Major – no discussion. Then I'll judge if you're capable to leave your bunk – or not. In the meantime, take some rest," Then he left the bunks room.

Shortly after, Jim appeared holding a steaming cup. "Hi Artie," he said.

Looking up at Jim he reached out, smiling. "Hiya Jim! You brought me coffee? Thanks! I hope it's better than the General's."

Jim nodded. "I put some brandy in it."

The older man grinned. "Some? Ah! You're a real friend, Jim. I needed that." He grimaced and briefly closed his eyes tight shut in pain before taking a sip. "It's rather brandy with some coffee in it." He chuckled. "Thank you – thank you for everything. You saved my life and I owe you it now."

Jim smiled. "Save mine one day and we'll be even."

Artemus sighed. "The General told me everything, and I apologized to him. Our first mission together was a total fiasco, and it's my fault. Next time I'll use another pseudonym – but I had no idea that Garvey would be there, would recognize my pseudonym and would capture us. He's dead I heard?"

Suddenly the two men heard the Union artillery take action. The shelling of the enemy lines and trenches had started.

Jim nodded and raised his voice. "Yes, a shell killed him."

Artie took a swallow and grimaced "It tastes awful even with some good brandy in it. _James my boy_ , I need to teach you how to make a good coffee."

Smiling Jim pulled out two cigars from the inside pocket of his vest uniform. "From the General, to comfort us."

Smiling Artie gulped down his brandy-ed coffee, sat the empty cup on the side of his bunk and took one. "Long live General Grant!"

Nodding, Jim lit Artie's cigar and then his. "Long live General Grant!" he said before they both puffed away on their cigars.

Smiling, Artemus took another long drag of the cigar; he pursed his lips, blowing a perfectly round smoke-ring towards the top of the tent. "To the end of the war," he said.

The American civil war ended a few days after the Breakthrough at Petersburg.

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST MISSION**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _9 years later, 1874_

 _Washington railroad yard_

President Grant was sitting in his favorite armchair – he brought with him anywhere he went after the war – on the rear platform of the Wanderer. He put a cigar between his teeth and lit it with short, quick inhalations, then took his first puff. He exhaled slowly, blowing a steady stream of smoke into the air, and turned towards his friend and personal physician, sitting on a chair beside him.

He pulled his cigar out of his mouth and asked, "What do you think of the Wanderer, Stephen? It's a very nice train, isn't it?"

Stephen Henderson nodded. "It's almost as luxurious as your own train, Mr. President. You have been very generous with those two…" He pointed at Jim and Artemus standing face to face, a few steps away, on each side of the railroad track, ready to fight.

Ulysses S. Grant nodded and took another drag of his cigar. "I know Stephen, but I wanted my best team of _special agents_ to travel anywhere in the country comfortably – and rapidly." He took another drag of his cigar and continued, "Besides, I will use the Wanderer myself from time to time too when my own train is immobilized for an overhaul, to visit people, to visit new towns, to make speeches, etc. And I like my comfort. And I will use this train to be again with Artemus and Jim, of course." He smiled. "I miss them."

Colonel Henderson nodded. "And they probably miss you too, Sir."

President Grant pointed his cigar at the two men. "You know Stephen, as soon as I became President of the United States, they both accepted to work for the Secret Service Division under the Department of the Treasury – on one condition: _to protect me_ , and of course to be at my side again. And to do the other missions assigned to special agents like the 'prevention and investigation of counterfeiting of U.S. currency and U.S. treasury securities', etc."

The physician smiled. "Yes I know, Sir."

Grant smoked his cigar for one minute and continued, "You were right Stephen."

Stephen Henderson lifted an eyebrow, puzzled. "I was? I was right about what?"

President Grant smiled. "You told me once that Artemus would become an actor again and Jim would stay at my side as my aide de camp."

Dr. Henderson nodded. "Ah, yes, I remember. Yes, that's true, I was right. Before you were elected, when you were Commanding General, Major West remained at your side, as your aide de camp and Major Gordon resigned and became Mr. Gordon, an actor again, in Chicago."

Grant took another pull of the cigar. "I invited him to Washington with his troupe once, and they played Richard III. He was a marvelous king. He's such a great actor… and when he accepted to be a special agent he was re-integrated into the Army with his old rank. He's again a Major in the United States Army, but as he works out of uniform now, he's Mr. Gordon. The same thing for James West."

Colonel Henderson nodded. "Sir, could you tell me why your _special agents_ are punching each other? I didn't bring my black bag, you know. You invited me to visit the Wanderer and to chat with you like old friends do, not to tend Gordon and West's cuts and bruises."

President Grant grinned. "Don't worry, there's a medical kit in the Wanderer. But they won't need your assistance Stephen – they don't intend to hit each other too hard, just enough to collect some bruises and a few superficial cuts."

Henderson frowned, intrigued. "Why?"

Grant pointed his cigar at his two agents. "It's a kind of _physical preparation_ for their new mission. You see Stephen, unfortunately, nine years after the end of the war; some old confederate officers still haven't accepted the defeat. Artemus, who has an extraordinary facility for picking up errant scraps of information, recently brought to my attention that a small group of those confederate officers had planned to assassinate me. To infiltrate that group – which Artemus has located - Jim and Artemus decided to impersonate two ex-gray officers who didn't accept General Lee's surrender and were imprisoned in the Old Capitol Prison." He took a puff and opened his mouth, blowing the smoke in front of him. "Artemus has planned every detail conscientiously to make their story credible. Fake bruises and cuts can disappear, real ones, no. This applies especially for their safety. You see, those two ex-officers managed to escape but had to fight hard for their way out. Jim and Artemus wanted their bruises and cuts to be realistic to completely fool the others. That's why they're punching each other. Once beaten, they will find them and befriend them to learn everything about their plan. Then, they will capture them. Simple."

WWW

Smiling, Artemus punched James square in the mouth, propelling him backwards. He brought his hands back up in a guard, and grinned. "You're too slow," he said.

Using the back of his hand to wipe the blood coming out from his split lower lip, Jim moved towards Artie and hit the other man in his right temple with lightning speed, dropped down, and kicked Artie's legs out from under him.

Lying flat on the ground, Artemus let out an "Ow," rubbing his aching temple. Stars swam in his vision.

Frowning in concern, Jim asked, "Are you okay?"

Nodding, Artie said, "Yes, I'm fine" and then pushed himself to his feet, albeit warily. He swayed for a couple of seconds and made a beckoning motion with the fingers of his right hand. "Come on!" Then he punched Jim on the cheek.

Jim spat some blood at his feet and commented, "Not bad for an _old man_."

Gordon lunged, his fist connecting with the man's jaw, sending Jim back into the rear part of the Wanderer. "Be respectful young man! And I'm not _old_."

Moving towards Artie, Jim hit the other just above his right eye. Artemus immediately landed hard on his buttocks, dazed, close to blacking out. He closed his eyes for a brief second, head swimming.

Jim winced when Artie touched the cut right above his eye dripping a little blood. He took the other man's shoulders in each hand and looking him in the eyes. "Are you ok? I'm sorry, I hit you too hard. Do you want to make a pause? Do you want to stop?"

Gordon shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. He smiled. "Let's continue to have some fun!" and he punched Jim's chin, knocking his partner's head to the side as his fist connected with his jaw.

Smiling, Jim leapt forward to tackle the larger man. The two men fell together, painfully crashing to the ground as they wrestled, now laughing between jabs and kicks.

WWW

Stephen Henderson turned towards the President, who was enjoying the show. "I know that they have to look as though beaten up by some guards before escaping Old Capitol Prison, but they are really enjoying all this a bit too much don't you think, Sir?"

Grant took a few mouthfuls of the heavy smoke, pulled his cigar out of his mouth and said, "They're just playing, they have fun. Boys are boys."

Dr. Henderson nodded. "Some people need another kind of fun. Personally I prefer reading books, which is not violent."

President Grant smirked. "It depends on the book."

Colonel Henderson shook his head watching Gordon and West throw punches at each other. "They look like two brothers fighting over a girl."

Grant nodded. "You're right Stephen, they're brothers – and there are girls, lots of them!"

The end


End file.
